Chapter 7
Relationships between Rita and Henry were never more strained. The ride back to Rita's apartment was one of morbid silence, with Henry rendering his abuse on the Cadillac, putting its tires and transmission to the limits of mechanical torture. He ignored Rita's request for a match and coldly nodded toward the dashboard lighter; and when they were at last in front of her apartment, he made no effort to open her door, nor utter a 'goodnight'.
Amused, she said, "No hard feelings, huh, Henry?"
His watery blue eyes filled with hate. Without warning, he slapped her across the mouth.
Rita did not flinch. She could have torn his eyes out, smashed his groin; but instead, she sat perfectly still and grinned. It was a mocking grin, a grin that said the slap carried no pain; a grin that said Henry Ridgewood was a fool the biggest.
She blew smoke in his face to heighten her derision and with her contemptuous smile growing and growing, she learned suddenly forward and plunged the red-hot tip of the cigarette against his cheek.
Henry howled. He flung wild unspeakable obscenities at Rita; she, in turn, merely waved at him and slid from the car. He was still cursing when she disappeared inside the apartment lobby.
Upstairs, she took quick short strides toward the kitchen and poured herself a large drink of bourbon. She drank it swiftly, smacked her lips; and then, in the middle of pouring herself still another drink, she paused and thought: "Yes, you're damn right I've changed!"
But this time, the introspection and self-examination brought her fears rather than elation. She was drinking much more these days; she had always abhored drink. And there was that sad little affair with the teenager what was her name? Lee? and tonight, Henry: a sordid sexual encounter in the back seat of his Cadillac; later, her desire to inflict a mental and physical punishment upon him. And how much worse would she get?
She finally decided not to dwell on her fears; life was too short for recriminations. And then taking another pill a pill because they instilled her with confidence she swallowed it and washed it down "with a half of glass of bourbon.
Her sleep was dream-tossed and broken. And sometime during the night she wasn't sure of the time Henry phoned. He was in some bar, drunk he said; and he hadn't been home.
She listened to his dreary alcoholic outpouring, interrupting to advise him to go home. But he couldn't go home, he said. He was worried. There was trouble coming. He could tell.
She put up with his melancholy utterings until her patience had run the gamut, until she could stand no more. Then she jarred him with a four-letter obscenity and slammed the phone into its cradle. Henry didn't phone back; Rita didn't suppose he would.
In the morning, without knowing just why, she took three more pills in rapid succession. She brewed a pot of coffee; minutes later, there was a banging at the front door. She snatched up a dressing gown, wrapped it around herself, and hurried to the door. It was Lee: full of smiles, gushing.
"And I brought Joel along," she said, motioning to the gangling youth behind her. "Rita, this is Joel Harris and Joel Harris, this is...."
"Pleased t' meetcha, ma'am," the boy said before Lee could complete her introduction, and then the young pair swept inside.
In the utter confusion of their sudden early morning entry, Rita had forgotten to tie her dressing gown. She wasn't immediately aware of this oversight at least, not until she'd drawn them to the kitchen and brought down additional cups and saucers; then she caught the boy's dark eyes probing at the generous display of her naked thighs, and she responded by promptly closing her gown.
A ruddy flush came to the youth's face, and his embarrassment amused Rita. She set down the cups and saucers and poured their coffee. "You'll have to excuse the way I look," she said. "I'm not used to entertaining this early in the morning." She swept the hair out of her face and joined them at the kitchen table.
"I guess I should apologize for coming so early," Lee said, "but we didn't have anything to do, and I was telling Joel about my new job, so we just decided to come up and see you."
"Well I'm glad you did," Rita said, letting her smile dominate the boy. And he was certainly good-looking, she thought: Lascivious dark eyes, unruly curly hair and was he experienced? she wondered. Had the boy ever made love to a girl?
Rita decided that he had. Maybe not with Lee, but certainly with other girls. The signs were there: His cock forward manner; his shifty sidelong glances at the occasional parting of Rita's dressing gown dark eyes that reflected his desire to see more.
Rita thrilled to his secret attentions. The collar of her gown grew warm and damp with perspiration. She tried to hide her concern, to avert his meaningful gaze. It was impossible. She couldn't take her eyes from the boy; the muscular spread of his massive chest filled her with longing and shameful obsessions sprang from the dark corners of her mind.
She entered a conversation to escape her thoughts; a conversation that was entirely banal: What was the weather like outside? Did Joel and Lee go to the same school? How long had they known each other? And would they like another cup of coffee?
They said yes' to the coffee, and when Rita went to retrieve the percolator, she was incensed with a compulsion to tease the boy. She poured the coffee and, sitting down again, she allowed her gown to part. He naked thighs were generously exposed.
The teenage boy was nonplussed. He wanted to stare, but he didn't want to be conspicuous, so while Rita directed her conversation to Lee, who sat on the other side of the table, Joel Harris stole furtive glances at the ivory exposure so close to the touch of his trembling hands.
Rita delighted to the feeling that swept her loins. She affected nonchalance, carried on a bright witty conversation with Lee, and allowed her gown to part further and further.
The youth was numbed into silence and Rita became glowingly aware of his secret excitement. His fumbling and restlessness were noticeable.
Lee said, "You got ants in your pants, or something?"
"Or something," he intoned.
Rita suppressed her mirth. "Maybe the coffee is too strong," she suggested innocently.
"No. No, the coffee is fine." He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. His dark eyes darted to the wider opening of Rita's gown; then he looked away quickly.
"I don't know about the rest of you," Lee said, rising from her chair, "but coffee runs through me just like I was a sieve." She scampered to the bathroom.
They were alone now and Rita was consumed with dark evil desires. She didn't fight these desires. Something inside her compelled her to wickedness; inhibitions vanished. She raised her arms out in opposite direction and stretched. Her back arched toward the boy. Just for an instant, the top of her gown parted. Her magnificent breasts popped into view, the nipples ached to be fondled; then in a furtive, coquettish fling of her hands, she brought the ends of the gown together and turned from the boy.
It's getting kind of gloomy in here," she said, and though the boy didn't answer her, she wiggled seductively to the kitchen window to raise the shade.
Raw sunlight blasted through the gown, and she had known it would. She looked out at the street below, pretended an interest in an unseen object and turned in all directions. Her movements silhouetted everything she owned: the laschivously dimpled curve of her buttocks, their exciting line of separation; the jounce of her pertly upturned breasts; and finally, the graceful taper of her divine legs.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked impishly.
"W-w-what?"
"I said why are you looking at me like that?"
He was having a great deal of difficulty with his hands. "Cause you're pretty," he said.
Rita shrugged it off. "But so is your girlfriend, Lee.'
"Yeah, but...."
Rita waited for him to complete the sentence, but the boy's befuddling was complete. He was lost for words, enraptured by the stolen glimpses of her body; he could neither move nor speak.
Amused, excited herself, smug because she could provoke such hotness in the youth, Rita opened the refrigerator and brought out the vodka and orange juice. Lee then returned, the coffees were pushed aside, and Rita mixed a trio of drinks.
They moved into the living room, made themselves comfortable, and when Rita switched on the stereo, the boy spoke and said: "This is quite a pad you got, Miss Lyons. Quite a pad."
Rita insisted that the boy call her Rita, then while the two teenagers found their way to the davenport, Rita excused herself to dress.
She selected a pair of pink short-shorts, the tightest pair she had. Coming to grips with the zipper to close them up proved quite a battle, but she finally won, and the reward was worth the effort. Her provocative lower body was pruriently outlined by the pink short-shorts, and nothing was left to the imagination. She had worn no panties there wasn't room for them and the appealing V of the shorts was hellishly obvious.
For a top, she chose a white cotton shell, one that clung to her straining breasts like a second skin. Her nipples pressed outward on the thin fabric: rosy prominences that begged to be licked.
She donned a pair of black patent leather skyscrapers, combed out her hair and added make-up, and then she stood at the slightly parted bedroom door and watched the two teenagers necking.
Obviously, Rita's display of nudity had stimulated the boy. Her permissiveness with drinks had added to that stimulation, and now as Rita gazed out at them, she saw that the youth had pushed his teenage girlfriend over on her back and had crept beside her.
Lee had worn a black pullover and a yellow-pleated skirt, but at the moment not much of that skirt was visible: the boy had drawn the skirt up to the line of her panties, his hands were stroking the smooth flesh of her quivering thighs. They were locked in a kiss; the teenage girl seemed to be straining to force the boy away. Suddenly, she succeeded, and she said:
"Fer crying out loud, Joel. What are ya tryin't' do?"
"Jus' have a little fun." He tried to push her sweater up. She fought him off. "You scared, or something?" he asked.
"like cool it off, huh, Dad. like take it easy for awhile. Okay?" She straightened out her pleated skirt.
The boy was disgruntled. He rolled off the davenport and went to the kitchen to make himself another drink. When he returned, he said: "You loll me, Lee. You know that You saving it for somebody special, or something?"
"You know that's a he," she snapped. "If I was saving it for anybody, it'd be you."
"Then why the prissy missy act?" he asked.
"Well we're not exactly alone," she said, "and if you think...."
Rita suddenly entered the room. She felt the boy's leering smile of approval and then heard his whistle. Lee bolted up to a sitting position. She, too, beamed her approval.
"Wow!" Lee exclaimed.
Rita modestly overlooked their compliments: "And what were you two up to?" she asked demurely.
"Up to?" Lee repeated, her face coloring.
"Sure," Rita said with a knowing smile. "ft" I were a teenager and Joel was my boyfriend, well! I'll...."
The boy grinned his thanks. He turned to look at Lee. "See. What'd I tell you."
The teenager's face crimsoned even more. She followed Rita into the kitchen.
"What'd you have to go and say that for?" she asked Rita.
"I didn't say any thing so terrible." She paused, and then something drove her to say. "Don't you want him to make out?"
"Well ... sure ... but...."
"But what?"
"He wants to go all the way," she blurted out.
Rita suddenly embraced the frightened young teenager. She gave her a compassionate hug. "Nobody can make you do anything," she said. But again an evil inner force compelled Rita to speak from the gutter: "But it's fun...."
The teenager giggled. Rita handed her a drink, then made one for herself.
"What's going on out here?" Joel stood spread-legged in the entrance way of the kitchen. His dark brooding eyes swept up and down Rita's body.
"We were just having a woman-to-woman talk," Rita offered. She turned to Lee. "Weren't we, Lee?"
"That's right. And it's none of your business, Joel."
The youth shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave. Rita called him back. "C'mere, Joel. I wanna show Lee something."
A half-hearted smile broke across his mouth. Uncertain, he came slowly toward her.
"C'mon," she urged. "I won't bite you."
Lee, curious, looked on. Apprehensive, the boy stopped in his tracks. Rita reached for him. She swept him into her arms and pinned him against the cupboards. Grinding her weight against the youth, she mashed her mouth to his. He struggled briefly, then confused, his lips parted to greet the fury of her darting tongue.
Rita ground her pelvis against the boy. Her breasts were imprisoned between the clash of their bodies, and she rocked her nipples back and forth across his shirt front with the sway of the kiss.
A moan broke from the boy's throat and Rita pressed all the more hotly against the confused youth. Thrills bubbled up in her stomach and descended to her loins. She felt the boy's arms shoot around her back, felt the pulsation of life, and then, before he was completely overcome-she, too-she wiggled from his grasp, panted and grinned at his lipstick-stained mouth.
The two teenagers looked at her, puzzled.
"I have to go to the bank before they close," she explained, remembering that she had to get the tapes out of the safety deposit box, "so I'm leaving you to your own evil designs."
"We could straighten up the place," Lee suggested.
"There's not that much straightening up to do," Eita said, nudging them toward the front room. "Besides, I won't be gone that long ... so make yourselves at home, you already know where the vodka is, and if anyone phones, just take the message and tell 'em I'll return the call." She threw on a beach jacket over her short shorts and started for the door.
"Are you sure there's nothing we can do?" Lee asked from the davenport
Eita shot the two of them a wicked smile. "Well there's lots of things you can do," she said in a sultry voice. "Whether you do or not is up to you." And to herself, she thought: "My God, Please help me!" But then the momentary frown disappeared; inner righteousness was dead!
On her way to the bank-a three-block walk-Eita attracted considerable attention. The beach jacket and her short-shorts ended on a common plane; to the passerby, the jacket was apparently all she was thought to be wearing. Consequently, there were shrill whistles, catcalls, and the usual number of hungry, but approving, glances.
Naturally, there was also disapproval. But this came from women-old bags who preached the high-and-mightly, whose sanctimonious way of life was in direct conflict with Eita's. But these haughty stares did not disturb Rita; rather, they made her feel all the more supreme. She was a rebel, she told herself, and if they didn't like what she wore then they didn't have to look.
She reached the bank, and with her breasts held high, she clip-clopped her way to the safety deposit section. Bank decorum inhibited further whistling, but Rita yielded a measure of satisfaction in at least seeing a teller drop his tray of currency, this occurring when he walked into a potted plant.
Moments later, Rita left the bank with her precious bag of tape recordings; she then made her way to a radio and TV appliance store, where she purchased another small tape recorder and some blank tapes. Henry was going to blow sky-high when he discovered what she had done, but her sense of rebellion was greater than innate fear; in short, she simply didn't give a damn what Henry thought, or what anyone thought
After arranging for the delivery of the equipment, she began the journey home. She stopped at a liquor outlet, bought vodka and wash; then ten minutes later, she reached the lobby of her apartment.
The kids ought to be making out like crazy, she thought And if they hadn't it wasn't because she hadn't sponsored the opportunity-even the stimulus. But at least they had the chance, she ruminated, which was considerably more than she had ever had. Rita's mother had been a strict disciplinarian; her sheltered existence had afforded her but little chance to date boys, and maybe that was why she felt the need to be so permissive to others.
Regardless of the reason, Rita climbed the stairs, hoping to stumble on a compromising scene, maybe even taking part in it. She had forgotten the warm pressure of the boy's body, and it filled her with inordinate pride to know that a teenage boy could become so excited by her presence. Maybe ... just maybe...
She opened the door quietly. The apartment was still. Had they left? She felt a tinge of disappointment, but as she latched the door softly in place, she heard the labored breathing, and then the moan-the moan of the teenage girl, Lee Patterson.
The bedroom door was ajar; that's where they were! Rita felt an explosion of excitement. She threw off her beach coat, after quietly setting down her packages, and now she stole cautiously closer.
The sight that greeted her eyes filled her with longing. The teenagers were stripped naked, sprawled across Rita's bed; obviously, their love-making had only begun.
They were entitled to privacy, Rita thought, but she was too spellbound to move. She had a Peeping Tom's rarest of finds: two teenagers experimenting with sex; and Rita wasn't about to miss a single second of this delicious scene. It never occurred to her that she was sick. Sick and getting worse...